À l'occasion de l'anniversaire de la messe de Kočevo Horn, l'évêque Jamnik rappelle qu'il s'agissait d'une messe funéraire et d'une invitation à un long chemin de réconciliation

On July 8, 2026, the 36th anniversary of a significant event took place in Kočevski Rog, marking the first commemorative mass held there on July 8, 1990. At that time, the then-Ljubljana Archbishop Dr. Alojzij Šuštar organized the ceremony as a symbolic act of remembrance and reconciliation. This year, Ljubljana's auxiliary bishop, Dr. Anton Jamnik, emphasized during a commemoration that the event was not merely a "reconciliation ceremony" but rather a symbolic Christian funeral and memorial mass for all victims of wartime and post-war violence. He recalled that Archbishop Šuštar repeatedly stressed the importance of praying for the deceased, respecting all victims, and calling for a "long path of reconciliation."

Jamnik, who was initially a chaplain in Kočevje and later the secretary of Archbishop Šuštar, shared his personal experiences from the early days when access to Kočevski Rog and other areas was still under special surveillance. During visits to the caves, he encountered remains of those killed and experienced the presence of security forces. These experiences reinforced his belief in the need to pray for both victims and perpetrators, seeking forgiveness and truth.

In his reflections, Jamnik highlighted that reconciliation must be based on truth and forgiveness, not forgetting or political compromises. He explained that reconciliation requires personal inner change, dialogue, and readiness to build new relationships. He referenced the teachings of Pope John Paul II about "cleansing memory" as a necessary step toward reconciliation. According to him, true reconciliation involves facing the past honestly, recognizing wrongdoings, respecting the dignity of each person, and being prepared to forgive.

Jamnik also pointed out that forgiveness does not mean erasing historical memory. On the contrary, one can forgive precisely because they remember the past, yet free themselves from vengeance and the desire for retaliation. He believed that only a truthful confrontation with history can prevent the repetition of past mistakes and enable more just human relationships.

Today, Jamnik sees the message of Archbishop Šuštar as still relevant. The closing words from Kočevski Rog—“Take the path of reconciliation” and “Be kind and noble and just companions and sincere friends. God is with us!”—are viewed by him as a lasting call for Slovenian society to build reconciliation on truth, respect, forgiveness, and the dignity of all victims.

The event marked the beginning of a new era, symbolically highlighting the start of a period of healing after years of conflict. Then-Ljubljana Archbishop Alojzij Šuštar called upon attendees to take the long and difficult path of reconciliation, while President of the Slovenian Presidency Milan Kučan added a memorable thought: “We reconcile with them, bury them, but we also carry their weapons away with them.” Over three decades have passed since this moment, yet many feel that reconciliation remains an unattainable goal. Not all the dead have been properly buried, nor has the "weapon" disappeared. Today, however, it is made up not of metal and steel, but of words, symbols, interpretations, and political interests.

Recently, while compiling an index for a forthcoming book on reconciliation, a seemingly minor detail caught attention—the inclusion of speeches given by then-President of the Republic of Slovenia Milan Kučan and Archbishop Alojzij Šuštar at the event in Kočevski Rog on July 8, 1990. Their titles alone revealed differing understandings of the same event. Kučan’s speech bore the title “Speech at the Reconciliation Ceremony,” whereas Šuštar’s was titled “Sermon at the Commemorative Mass.” Different perspectives were gathered from individuals closely associated with the event.

While responses from former President Kučan were not received, Auxiliary Bishop Anton Jamnik contributed a written reflection where he described the event as a “commemorative funeral mass” or “reconciliation ceremony.” Organizers of the event, including Spomenka Hribar, referred to it as a “day of reconciliation.” Even more notable was the perspective of some former defenders, such as Justin Stanovnik, who claimed that what occurred on July 8, 1990, in Kočevski Rog was nothing at all.

This diversity in naming the event itself is significant. Names are not just words—they represent how people understand events, assign meaning, and fit them into their worldview. Comparing different descriptions of the same event led to an uncomfortable realization. If the key actors and inheritors of this exceptionally symbolic meeting could not even agree on what exactly happened or how to name the event, it becomes difficult to expect consensus on much more complex questions related to the meaning of the past.

It appears that each participant brought their own understanding of reconciliation and left with confirmation of their own interpretation of the event. Perhaps this is one reason why reconciliation often seems elusive in the public sphere—not because there isn’t enough discussion about it, but because under the same word, different people understand entirely different things. As a result, the public often gets the impression that Slovenians bear a unique burden of history that they cannot put down, as though trapped in a circle of the past, unable to make decisive progress forward.

Political and opinion leaders frequently remind us that national reconciliation is the first condition for a healthy future community. Without it, they claim, remnants of old divisions would remain, from which many modern problems originate. In these interpretations, reconciliation appears almost like a magic key that would open the door to a better society if only we could find it. However, perhaps the issue lies elsewhere. Perhaps we are searching for reconciliation in the wrong place.

When faced with the question of reconciliation, we often stand before a sphinx. Before us lies a great riddle that supposedly determines our future. Until we solve it, we cannot move forward. Yet, with the Sphinx’s riddle, the answer is not always clear.